


Self-Inflicted Apathy

by Faerie_of_the_Moonlight



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Character Study, Gen, How Do I Tag, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 06:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20523527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faerie_of_the_Moonlight/pseuds/Faerie_of_the_Moonlight
Summary: Atanase should have had everything lined up in his life. He owned multiple business, he was fairly well-respected, and had more contacts and influence than he could have ever wished for. Instead, he felt as though he was a ghost wandering through his life. He had no friends, no attachments. He could just float away and no one would know.Notice that I use an alternate name for Romania.Songfic request by anon on tumblr. The song was Self-Inflicted Achromatic by Nekobolo feat. Miku Hatsune. But I used both the lyrics from the wikia and JubyPhonic's cover.





	Self-Inflicted Apathy

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this all in one sitting, so I apologize for any mistakes or errors!
> 
> In this AU, vampires are the children or descendants of a succubus/incubus and a human. So they are not undead.
> 
> Also, this is part of a bigger angel and demon AU that I have, but it's not going in the series because I'm redoing it.

As a kid, he had dreamed of doing something with his life. Something that would help other people. Or at least entertain them in some way. Growing up in a harsh environment, he wanted to do better than he was given. He imitated the older kids in his family, learning how to perform and act from a very young age. He never intended for that aspiration and imitation to become a self-inflicted curse.

Whether it was from his parents strict and severe nature or that all of the younger kids flocked to him for help, the expectations became many. He always envied his older siblings and cousins for their ability to smile and bear such a heavy weight. It was daunting to live up to the way he presented himself.

It only became worse as he got older. Even breaking away from his family never helped him. He put just as much pressure on himself as his family ever did. Every accomplishment was nothing special. It wasn’t good enough when he landed lead rolls on first auditions. Standing ovations were nothing special. Managing a bartending job and theatre career at 18 was the minimum of what he should have been capable of. Opening up his own club was good, but there was still more he could be doing.

It was enough to drive him insane, despite having no one to blame himself. He had sky-high good days and less-than-dirt bad days. As the latter became more and more common, there were days he considered finding the tallest building with a public roof.

Now at 24, he owned multiple bars and clubs throughout London. He had to vastly expand his staff to be able to handle it all. There was one in particular that he considered his favorite, though. The Strigoi’s Rest was a club that catered to the Underworld. Not criminals, but demons. Demons, vampires, witches… Any of the sort that would get the angels’ feathers ruffled. (It helped establish it as such being a vampire himself.)

On a regular basis, the club was filled to burst. They had at least 100 customers through the night, if not more. He barely interacted with any of them. He had the money and the power and the influence he had dreamed of as a kid, but no ability to use it. On an average night, he could pick out and count at least 20 people who needed some form of help. Instead of helping, though, he provided a way for them to hurt themselves more. Alcohol and drugs were the only things a club really had to offer. How many people had he watch sob into their drinks and drowning their sorrows?

As he hung around and tended the bar, he interacted with so many people. They all started to blend together after a while. None of them were particularly special or unique. They were all customers. He had no one in his life that he really had a connection with. Nothing to tie him to the rest of the world. He employed tens of people, but it wasn’t as though he was attached to anyone. There was no one who needed him and no one he needed.

There were days, even as a disillusioned adult, that he found himself daydreaming of a way to help better the lives of the people he came into contact with. Some way to make them laugh and smile instead of despairing and sobbing. A way to set the less fortunate of his customers up for success. Something, anything. But what could he really do? He was a club owner who spent most of his revenue on upkeep and wages. He tried to accomplish something positive by paying all of his employees well, but how far did that really go?

On a regular basis, he would work in his own establishments. It was partially out of wanting to help, but equally from trying to find something to ground him. If he didn’t, it was possible he may just float away inside his own head, never to come back down to reality. It didn’t always help; most days he felt like he was sleepwalking. People rarely engaged with him. It would be oh so very easy to just walk away and vanish. No one would notice; he barely had a personal hand in most of the managing of his businesses anymore.

He had no real impact on the world, unlike what he dreamed of as a miserable child. There was no lasting mark that he made. Nothing to establish himself as anything but a once-upon-a-time stage actor and current business owners. There were plenty wannabe actors and plenty of business owners.

It was an endless cycle in his head. One of dissociation and depression. He wasn’t so detached that he didn’t know what his issues were. He just never expected them to become so severe that he found himself sitting on the roof of Strigoi’s Rest and having no recollection of walking up there.

A three floor fall certainly wouldn’t kill him. It would hurt like a bitch, but he would walk away from it. Not even a broken bone. One of the benefits of being a vampire… It took a lot more than that to kill him. Still… it was tempting. Maybe some pain would snap him out of his trance.

Before he could bounce the idea around enough in his head to decide on it, a hand rested on his shoulder, startling him. When he snapped his head towards the person, he was a bit shocked by the face that greeted him. Not only was he not expecting to see her that night, he had never seen that masked concern directed towards him.

“Ah… Natalia. What can I do for you?” he heard himself saying. Still in that annoying out-of-body state, then.

She frowned at him and asked, “What are you doing up here? Not about to do something moronic, right?”

“Ah, that’s a trick question, isn’t it? You think a lot of my actions are rather dumb and pointless,” Atanase laughed, slowly feeling himself coming back. Though the laugh was hollow and it sounded it, even to him.

“Don’t play that bullshit with me,” Natalia said, taking a seat next to him. He had to wonder what she was doing there. Her visits usually coincided with business. The sister of the most powerful demon in all of Hell hardly had time to pop in for a visit. “I call you an idiot because your act doesn’t fool me.”

Atanase hummed in amusement, when he really had a knot form in his stomach, leaning back on his hands. “And what act is that? I think I’ve been rather genuine with you. Rather shocking for me.” He knew she was perceptive, but he didn’t think that she would be able to see through him. He was raised to fool the best with his performances.

“That. Right there. That stupid grin,” she scowled at him, pointing at his face. “That pointless smartass playboy act you pull. It’s bullshit and you know it.”

After watching her (and her finger for a brief second―her nails could stab someone) and observing her, Atanase sighed. He let his smile fall and sat forward on his knees instead. “And it matters how? My putting on an act doesn’t affect our business relationship.”

“It does if you’re going to do something stupid like hurting yourself. Or getting up and walking away  _ from  _ your business,” Natalia said, glaring him down. When she thought he was wrong or being idiotic, she certainly never held back. But that was a trait he appreciated from her. “It’s going to be a pain in my ass to try to find another contact up here if you decide to vanish on me.”

“You’re concerned? I didn’t think you had the time or energy to worry about someone like me,” he said with a self-deprecating smile as he watched people line up in front of the club below them. “Natalia, you’re on the road to establish yourself to be feared as much as your brother. You can find better uses for your last shreds of fucks to give than a depressed―but admittedly attractive―business owner.” She had an abrasive way of reaching out (mainly by chastising him), but it was nice in a way to know someone was paying attention.

He heard her heave a sigh as she stood up, likely rolling her eyes. Though, when he glanced up at her, he could have sworn he caught a glimpse of the slightest smile. “Just get inside. I have a job for you and I don’t want to talk about it out here. Too many ears and eyes.”

“Yes, yes. Always business with you. At least let me buy you a drink,” Atanase said, letting himself smile a little easier. Maybe he was seeing things with that smile, but it made him feel a little lighter. He couldn’t quite laugh everything off, but maybe he wasn’t as alone as his spiraling mental state had let him believe. While Natalia had an odd way of showing concern, he knew enough of her past that he wouldn’t take it the wrong way. On the contrary… he felt a bit of weight leave his shoulders as he followed after her.


End file.
